


Something You Can Do With Your Arse

by censored (aroceu)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Walking In On Someone, Wandfucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-02
Updated: 2012-05-02
Packaged: 2018-05-22 16:31:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6086773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aroceu/pseuds/censored
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scorpius sees the things Potter does with his arse. And helps him out a bit, too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something You Can Do With Your Arse

Scorpius curses Nott to hell and back for forgetting his Potions book. Although at the same time he doubts it, the forgetting, because it had been  _his_ , Scorpius's idea to sit around the edge of the lake and study for their NEWTs. Nott had laughed and told him that they're not for another six months, but had finally relented and said that he would. Though, now that Scorpius thinks about it, Nott had probably just agreed so he could gawk at the girls gossiping under the beech tree.

So it's Scorpius's duty, of course, to actually get a bloody Potions book since neither Nott nor any of the others cared. It's bloody ridiculous, too, because the Slytherin dungeons are miles away from outside even though they're practically directly under the lake, but it takes forever for him to get from near the beech tree to the actual dungeons, and then he actually has to go to the boys' dormitory which is kind of depressing because who the hell is actually  _in_  the dormitory at four in the afternoon, when it's so bright out? No one, because no one in their right mind would -

And then this is when Scorpius stops, because the moment he creaks the boys' dormitory door open, he definitely hears someone and he'd keep on going except it sounds suspiciously like someone is  _moaning_.

Well fuck, Scorpius thinks, because even if someone is wanking or shagging in the dormitory, it's a bloody public place (among the Slytherin boys and sometimes girls anyways) and he has every right to barge in and do as he please. Except he can't, because he's too frozen from the shock and also a little frozen because it does sound really hot, whoever's moaning in there.

He finally gets it in himself to peek beyond the door. He can't help it. It's pure curiosity, he tells himself. He can't really see anything at first, blocked by the dark green drapes of Macmillan's bed, but he pushes the door a little further and definitely sees blankets moving on a bed barely visible in the doorway gap. Scorpius tries to think for a moment, who it could be—Zabini's bed is more on the left, his own bed is right next to that, and Finch-Fletchley's and Boot's beds are on either side...

Scorpius's eyes widen in surprise. It's  _Potter_ , of course; but who could Potter possibly be shagging? As far as Scorpius knows, Potter is a prude little thing—all smiles and small with dark hair and green eyes, an image strikingly similar to the famous Harry Potter's (i.e. his father) aside from the lack of glasses and lack of scar. Potter is probably the most innocent person Scorpius has ever had the misfortune to meet, and it's a misfortune because Scorpius has always viewed innocent people as socially corrupted. As in, they've never indulged in something truly pleasurable yet.

But here is small little Albus Potter, making noises that makes it sound like he's  _shagging_ someone, and Scorpius tries to list off the possible candidates. The first person he thinks of is Rose Weasley, although that's disgusting because he's her cousin. He also thinks of that brown-haired Ravenclaw he'd been partnering up with in Transfiguration lately, but mostly because the girl had been trying to flirt with him—Potter'd been too oblivious to notice. Scorpius remembers watching them in Transfiguration and wondering anxiously if Potter would notice, then chuckling hilariously to himself when Potter never does.

He can't really tell, though, and moves the door a little more— _out of curiosity_. Still, he can't see anything from the angle here, so he wonders if he can slip in and take a peek just to see if he can discover anything about Potter's sex life that he can laugh about with the boys later. It makes him feel guilty, but he also reminds himself that all of the boys tease Potter out of adoration: one time they'd been making fun of his unruly black hair and Potter had remarked that he wished that he had hair like Scorpius.

_Not now_ , Scorpius thinks to himself.  _Now is not the time for that._

So he pushes the door a little more until there's a nice himself-shaped gap for him to slip through, and slowly he tip-toes across the mahogany ground to get a better view of Potter's bed without being seen by the incriminator himself. He can hear Potter's bed creaking up and down, and, for a brief moment, hiding behind the canopy of Macmillan's bed, he wonders if he'll regret this.

What he sees is a very naked Potter on his emerald four-poster, which he hadn't even bothered to close, apparently, with one hand in front of him and the other behind. His right is the one in front of him, actually, which makes Scorpius frown because isn't Potter left-handed? But then he sees Potter arch his back and lift himself onto his knees, letting out a little moan as his left hand goes further behind him -

Then Scorpius also sees his pert arse, and he's simultaneously wondering why he's feeling a hardness between his own legs, and why he's not completely disturbed by this. Potter's fingers are pressing in between his arse cheeks, and he's looking like it's both the most pleasurable and painful thing he's ever experienced and his other hand is stroking himself up and down although it's pretty evident that he doesn't need to do that because just touching the inside of his arse seems to be getting him on even more and  _fuck_  why is Scorpius still watching this, why doesn't he leave, why doesn't he try to move.

When he does, he realizes with dread that it's not to leave the room, but to get a better look. His body's working on its own accord, and Scorpius wishes he could stop himself but a part of him wants to see this better, as well. He moves silently across the floor, extremely thankful Potter hasn't seen him yet (although that might be on account to Potter's eyes squeezed shut, with his thick and messy black hair even thicker and messier than usual). And he continues watching Potter as he glides across the room.

And, apparently, doesn't notice where he's going because the next moment he's slipped on something and has landed on the ground with a loud  _thud!_  Potter's bed stops creaking immediately, and Scorpius curses Merlin and Godric and Salazar and all the other bloody famous wizards in bloody Wizarding history.

Scorpius looks at the book: it's a Potions book, and it's Nott.  _Bastard_ , Scorpius thinks, for no reason at all.

He's glad that he's laying on the floor and not looking at naked Potter at the moment, because if he were, Scorpius thinks that he would get very embarrassed at Potter seeing him seeing Potter naked, and Scorpius has that Malfoy curse, that whenever a Malfoy is embarrassed, his face will color as instantly as magic to resemble a cherry.

He's only half-embarrassed when he hears Potter's voice say, "Who's there?"

He doesn't sound accusing, embarrassed himself. He sounds more frightened, that someone has caught him in his one act of impurity.

"I am," says Scorpius, finding the strength to get back to his feet although he doesn't look to Potter's bed. At all. "I was just looking for this book," he says, picking up Nott's book.

"Oh," says Potter, and Scorpius can't resist looking at him now. Thankfully—or is Scorpius feeling disappointed?—he's covered by his emerald blankets and only his bare torso is showing. "Er. Sorry. I didn't hear you."

"It's all right," says Scorpius, and he tears his gaze away from Potter again, and turns away. "I'll just be leaving now," he says, waving the Potions book.

"All right," says Potter, and they both wait for Scorpius to leave.

He can't. He's desperately, achingly hard; and he's also shockingly intrigued at what Potter had been doing, with his fingers and his arse. He doesn't want to question him about it, though, because it'd be embarrassing for the both of them, but he does think of a way to broach the topic without humiliating himself, at the least.

"Were you wanking?" he says, and succeeds at sounding teasing. He throws a smirk over his shoulder to Potter, and sees that Potter's face is aflame.

"Ah—yes, well," says Potter, looking down to his sheets. Scorpius realizes that there's a very visible bulge beneath them.

"Perfect Potter, playing with his own prick?" He's pleased at the alliteration, and even more pleased when he sees Potter's face turn even darker.

"Don't—Don't tease me about that," he mumbles, his gaze still cast down.

Scorpius chuckles, not promising anything.

"And don't tell the others," Potter adds.

Scorpius scoffs. "Oh please," he says. "All blokes wank around this age. Or—well, are supposed to. About girls and all." He grins, because most of the time when Scorpius wanks, he does think about girls. Girls and their tits.

Potter mumbles, "I don't."

"You were just wanking!" says Scorpius incredulously. Then he wonders why he's having this conversation with Potter, and why he hasn't left the room yet.

"Not to girls," says Potter. "I was, um—"

"Oh right, I saw you do that thing with your arse," says Scorpius, and then stops because he's a bloody idiot.

Potter stops too, and looks at him, wide-eyed. "The thing with my arse?" he says. "You saw me doing that?" He sounds terrified, like Scorpius had just confessed to doing murder or something.

"Well yeah, I caught a glimpse of it and then I fell." Scorpius can't meet Potter's eyes now; he's sure that he's doing that infamous Malfoy-blushing thing.

"Oh," says Potter.

"Didn't it hurt?"

Merlin, why is Scorpius still standing here, and why does he have no control over the words his mouth is saying? He wants so desperately to die in this spot, looking nowhere on the floor, especially not at Potter, and still with the image of Potter putting his hand up his arse in his mind.

"Um," he hears Potter say. "A little, but it usually—it also feels really good."

"You've done it before?"

"Erm," says Potter, because apparently he's incapable of telling Scorpius to go away and instead will tell him the truth to all of Scorpius's long-suffering questions. "Yeah. Most of the time, when I—when I wank."

"That's—But how does it help?" And Scorpius puts the blame on both himself and Potter now: himself for asking the most ridiculous things that he probably doesn't even want to know, and Potter for being an imbecile and not stopping him.

"You can, er," says Potter. "You can watch, if you want."

He sounds so bloody hopeful that Scorpius is tempted to say no, and his temptation almost leads him to. But Scorpius doesn't even think about why Potter might be hopeful and he actually feels himself get distinctively harder at said hopeful voice that he mindlessly, stupidly, says, "Sure."

Potter looks like he can't believe him. He gapes at him, and Scorpius would gape at himself if he could. He doesn't know what he's doing. He sits at the edge of Potter's bed and wonders if Potter will actually go through with his offer. It would make everything a hell lot easier if Potter told him that he was joking, and that he actually doesn't want Scorpius watching and they can get on their own merry ways now.

But Potter, when apparently realizing Scorpius isn't going to do anything until  _he_  does something, hesitantly says, "All right," and then he reaches under his blankets where Scorpius is reminded Potter's prick is.

He can't see Potter's prick, but he can see Potter's left hand which worms around behind him and then near Potter's arse. Scorpius might've tried to move to see the action back there, but he actually doesn't have the ability to move right now—still stunned at what he's actually doing right now—and anyways, Potter lifts himself up so that Scorpius can see enough of his arse to get an idea of what's going back there.

"Um," says Potter, and then he practically falls forward when he, Scorpius assumes, gets a finger in. "Uh." Potter lifts himself back up, but no longer sitting—on his knees, naked torso straight up in the air. "The angle's really kind of difficult, with my arms and such, but I'm—mostly used to it."

Scorpius nods, his eyes not quite focusing on the sight in front of him. It's more like he's watching the place under the covers where he knows Potter's erection is, actually. It's when Potter lets out something a little similar to a groan when Scorpius's attention is snapped to his face, and he sees that Potter is beet red, though either from embarrassment or as a result of what he's doing to his arse. His mouth is also deliciously open.

"Shit," says Potter, and Scorpius assumes that he's put another finger in. "Fuck," Potter also swears when the covers move a little and Scorpius can see some of Potter's right fingers, a thigh, and the base of his cock. "Sorry if this is uncomfortable for you—" he starts.

Scorpius just continues watching silently, mind slowly processing that Potter has just cursed in front of him. No, more than that—that Potter is wanking in front of him. For some reason, it's the most erotic thing Scorpius can think of right now as he watches Potter press his fingers into him, his eyes squeezing harder and lighter to a varying degree. Potter's body is lithe and mostly hairless although he thinks he can see a few curls near where Potter's clumsy right hand is, and he's squirming under the pressure of his own fingers, pressing himself to come.

"Shit, ah," says Potter, twisting his body around. "Shit." Scorpius sees him stroke himself only a couple of times, and then Potter lets out a shuddering gasp and the covers fall back in front of him, and Scorpius only watches as Potter sinks back down onto his bed.

Potter moves his left hand back in front of him, and wipes it on his blankets as if he's just touched something dirty. "Sorry," he says to Scorpius, cheeks reddening. "You probably didn't want to see that. You probably were just joking, but were too scared to move, and—"

"Can you do that with your wand?" Scorpius wonders.

Potter snaps his head up.

"What?"

"Could you do something like that... with your wand?" It's such a ludicrous question but right now Scorpius is fueled on indescribable lust, and he's wondering if with a wand it'd be any easier.

"I mean," he says to Potter's shell-shocked face. "You said the angle was difficult, right? But a wand's long enough, it's—"

"I've never tried," says Potter.

"Then you should try," says Scorpius.

Potter looks at him with narrowed eyes for a moment. Then he sighs and grabs his wand off his bedside dresser.

"If it'd been anyone else to ask," Scorpius swears he hears Potter mumble to himself. Then Potter murmurs a spell, and his wand is instantly covered with something shiny that looks like lubrication.

"It certainly looks like you've done it before," says Scorpius, his urge to tease coming back.

Potter shoots him a glare. "You must have wanked before, it always comes out like this."

"Oh—right." Scorpius does remember wiping the lubrication on his palm to then rub along his own cock. But he can't remember anything right now. He's only distinctly aware of his own erection, too—his only focus right now is Potter.

Potter sighs, and then looks at Scorpius again. "Can you—see if it goes in right?" he asks, and then blushes upon this request. "I mean, since I haven't done it before, I haven't got the feel of how—it should work."

"Ah, right," says Scorpius, nodding numbly. "Okay."

Potter nods at him too, in assurance, Scorpius likes to think. Then Potter turns himself around with his wand in his left hand, and Scorpius has a perfect view of Potter's back.

It's quite nice. As far as boys' behinds go. Scorpius doesn't know much how to evaluate them, although he does have a better view of Potter's bony shoulders and also his nimble back, where he can see his sharp backbones jutting out. Potter also has some muscle and a little bit of meat around his middle, which Scorpius kind of wants to touch—but no, no he doesn't. At least, he refrains himself from it. Potter's arse is also quite nice, with full round cheeks coming down to his lickable thighs and oh god, Scorpius couldn't have just thought  _that_ , could he have -

"Is it all right?" asks Potter, trying to peer over his shoulder.

"It's—um—it's fine," says Scorpius, before realizing after a moment that Potter's actually referring to the position of his wand and his left hand. But that's fine, too.

"I'm going to, um." Potter moves his hand forward to his arse, although he doesn't quite put it in yet. Scorpius's eyes are fixated on the crack between his cheeks. "If I get splinters, it's your fault."

"You can't get splinters with your wand," says Scorpius, because he knows it's true. He doesn't look up though, and just holds his breath with trepidation as Potter slowly slips his lubricated wand into his arse.

Potter shudders, and for a moment Scorpius thinks something has gone wrong until he realizes that Potter is too immersed in ecstasy to move his hand. He's leaned forward on his bed, his forehead pressed against the thick glass window looking out into the dark Lake waters, and his right hand which has always been for wanking is pressed against the window, too. Scorpius imagines that if he weren't facing the window, he'd be lying face-forward on his bed right now. Potter's left hand twitches, like it's tempted to be brought up to join Potter's other hand, but Potter seems to be trying to get it to move along his wand, too.

"Shit," Potter mutters, and then a bit louder, "Fuck." He says to Scorpius, "This is—I don't think I can do this with two hands."

"Too long?" Scorpius asks.

"No, it just—feels too good. Fuck," Potter says again, and lets out a sort of breathless laugh. From this direction, Scorpius can see that Potter's cock is dark and hard, flush against his stomach.

"I think it's the magic in the wand," Potter says. "Making this feel so good. Shit."

"I can help you," says Scorpius. "If you want." He doesn't know what he's saying, though he does know that what he's saying is what he wants.

"Could you?" Potter sounds desperate, pleading. Scorpius's hand wrapping around his on Potter's wand is his only response.

"Fuck," says Potter for the third time in a row. "Thank you." He pressed both hands against the cool of the window, and then looks down, breathing deeply.

"Uh," says Scorpius, because he's getting harder just kneeling here, practically touching Potter's bare arse. "Do you want me to—move your wand?"

"Oh, yes, fuck yes," says Potter, and it sounds so good that Scorpius just gets harder even more. Scorpius moves Potter's wand a bit deeper into him, and he hears Potter squeak, but then say, "Oh, god, yes, fuck, yes."

Scorpius pulls out the wand a little more and shifts it back in, wondering if Potter might want the friction—apparently he does, because he just moans even more and becomes boneless against the dark window. "Fuck," he says. "Yes. Ah, Scorpius, ah, shit—" He moans even louder when Scorpius thrusts a little more, a little faster, and both these motions and Potter's reaction make Scorpius feel like he's going to come any minute, too. "Don't stop," Potter moans, and Scorpius wonders why the hell would he want to.

"Shit," says Potter, when Scorpius moves the wand up and down, as well, firm against his crack, and then practically drilling into him. "Shit, Malfoy, shit, this is so good, yeah, fuck,  _yeah_ —"

Scorpius has never thought that Potter would be so vocal during something like this (well, he's never thought of Potter doing anything like  _this_  at all) but it's turning him on, very very badly. He almost wants to move closer, wants to whine against Potter, wants to grind against him wants to -

"Malfoy," says Potter in between pants; Scorpius imagines that his eyes are dark and glassy, and this just makes him grow even harder. "Sometimes—when I finger—myself—I pretend—that it's—you—"

"Oh?" Scorpius feels like he should say something more to this, he should be surprised, but hearing Potter's voice and hearing him say something like this just makes Scorpius want to go over there and kiss him, lick him, bite him on the neck and around his earlobe.

"Ye— _oh!_ —yeah," says Potter, and Scorpius thinks that it was the  _oh!_  that sends Scorpius nearly on the brink. "But— _unh_ —right now—it feels like—it  _is_  you—"

Potter doesn't finish his sentence, or he does and Scorpius can't really tell, because then Potter is coming, all against his bed sheets and not quite against the window, his whole upper body thrown forward as he tries to steady himself with his forehead and his hands. His body jerks forward and Potter's wand instantly pops out of him, like it's been waiting for Potter to reach his orgasm for him to be done, and then Scorpius is staring, transfixed at Potter's cock and Potter's back and _Potter_ , trying not to come himself.

"Ah—oh." Potter slumps against the window when he's done, his face lightly hitting the glass. "Oh, god. Oh. I can't believe I did that."

Scorpius comes over to him. The events of the past several minutes—although it feels like hours—weeks, really—are finally processing through his brain, and Scorpius thinks that he should be more astonished, perhaps more traumatized, but he's not. "Did you mean it," he says, and his cock twitches in anticipation as he nears Potter, "when you said that you—imagine that it's me who's putting your fingers into your arse?"

"Oh," says Potter, and he laughs a little, like he's humiliated. Like he regrets what he'd said when he'd been in such ecstasy. "Yeah, but—not my fingers, or your fingers, but, um. Your prick." Scorpius sees his face flush at this. "Forget what I said, it's no big deal."

"No," says Scorpius, moving even closer to him. Potter's thighs are bright in contrast to the dark window, even though the dormitory light isn't very bright. "You think about me being inside you?"

Potter apparently retains that inability to lie to Scorpius. "Yes," he says, his cheeks coloring in humiliation.

Scorpius grabs Potter by the wrist and Potter recoils, slightly, like he's afraid Scorpius might hit him—but Scorpius's other hand is undoing the front of his robes which are restraining his stiff cock, so desperate to be released. "I can do that," he says, not looking at Potter's eyes because he's just focusing on the task of getting himself inside Potter.

He can see Potter's green eyes—which are remarkably dark, by the way—go wide and he practically whispers, " _What?_ " but Scorpius's robes are undone and he's pushing them aside to reveal his straining cock, ready to be inside Potter.

"Turn," he says, but Potter shakes his head and Scorpius lets out a huff—fuck that this is weird and wrong and he's never done it before, but he wants to fuck Potter so badly. "Why?" says Potter. "Why are you doing this? Are you teasing me?"

"Fucking—Potter, I just fucked you with your fucking wand." Scorpius's temper is getting to him. "By all means, if you don't want to do this on your stomach, it's fine, but you said you wanted my cock and here I am giving it to you—"

"Okay, okay," says Potter, and he's staring at Scorpius's cock suddenly. Licking his lips. Oh Merlin, what the fuck does Potter think he's doing. "We'll need some lu—"

"Then get it!" says Scorpius impatiently, and Potter sends him a look, similar to the one when he'd said  _if it'd been anyone else to ask_  but grabs his wand and mutters the incantation and then slicks the lubricant on his hand. Then he starts toward Scorpius's prick.

"No, no—I'll come if you do." Scorpius wants to come inside Potter, so badly. He doesn't even know why. "Just do the—thing, you always do."

"Oh, right," says Potter, but unlike last time, his cheeks only go a bit red as he fingers himself. Scorpius is very aware that Potter's cock is growing thicker, slowly darkening although it continues even when Potter's done fingering himself.

"I'll sit in your lap," says Potter, and then he trudges over on his knees so that his cock and Scorpius's are almost touching. "If you don't mind," he adds, like he's suddenly realizing what they're doing.

"Fuck, Potter, just," says Scorpius, and he drags Potter to him until Potter's prick is firm against his chest, and then pushes Potter down. The angling isn't quite right, but then Potter adjusts himself and Scorpius can feel his heat, warm and slick and closing in around him.

"Shit," mutters Scorpius as Potter says at the same time, "Fuck," and they both laugh, a bit breathlessly, trying to get used to the feeling. Scorpius peeks up a little to look at Potter.

"Does it feel like how you'd imagined?" he asks, and is surprised to see Potter's eyes water.

"It feels—" Potter sniffs and Scorpius wonders if he's done something wrong. "Oh god, fuck, Scorpius, fuck me,  _please_."

Scorpius does, or at least he tries with Potter sitting in his lap, but it proves to be a little bit difficult even when Potter sits on his knees because of the narrow space for him to move. Yet he thrusts upwards and Potter even thrusts himself downwards and seeing him teary-eyed, seeing him red-faced and riding on Scorpius's cock as Scorpius pushes into him as hard as he can sends Scorpius over the edge, and he comes with a shout, releasing all into Potter, and he buries his head into the crook of Potter's neck, soaking up his scent as he fills him up.

He's surprised to smell saltwater tears, like fresh from the ocean and when he's done coming and pulls back to look Potter in the eye, Potter's eyes are still wet as he thrusts on Scorpius.

"What's wrong?" he asks; he and Potter don't stop this motion because it feels so  _right_ , but seeing him cry is throwing him off-guard.

"I just," says Potter, and he sniffles again. "I just—never thought you'd ever pay much attention to me, I just wanted you so much but never thought that you'd, that you'd actually—"

"Oh," says Scorpius softly, and then he holds Potter's cheeks and looks him in the face. "Potter," is all he whispers as he brings their faces close, noses and foreheads touching and then suddenly Potter is moaning, squeezing his eyes shut and he comes all over the front of Scorpius's robes.

When Potter opens back up his eyes, he sees and looks embarrassed. "Sorry," he says, and then grabs his wand and mutters, " _Scourgify_."

"You're still on me, Potter," says Scorpius.

Potter looks even more embarrassed. "Sorry," he mumbles again, but doesn't make any move to get off. "Can I just stay here forever?" he asks against his shoulder, tucking his head under Scorpius's chin. "God—Malfoy, you make me feel so—god."

"If I stay inside of you, I'll get hard again." It's true; Potter's heat is making Scorpius's prick feel stiff.

"Then we can just have sex," says Potter, still against him. "All day."

"You don't mean that, do you?"

"I've been wanking every day around this time," says Potter, and Scorpius can feel the heat of Potter's cheek against his neck.

"Potter, you little devil. Sexual deviant," Scorpius teases, and then licks Potter's ear.

"I think I'd been hoping," says Potter in a small voice, "that you'd come, one day. That you'd come and accidentally see me. That you might actually want me."

"I do want you, Potter," says Scorpius, pulling away so he can look at Potter fully. His eyes are green, no longer too dark. "I want you now."

"I think you just want my arse," Potter teases, and Scorpius throws his head back and laughs, and then slaps Potter from behind.

 

"Yes," he says. "That too."


End file.
